UC-NRLF 


uuy 


on  rip  (DF 

Pror.    a.    R.    Noyes 


THE 


QUEEN'S    DOMAIN; 


AND 


OTHER    POEMS. 


BY 


WILLIAM     WINTER 


BOSTON: 
E.    O.    LIBBY   &   CO. 

NEW    YOEK:     CHARLES    SCRIBNER. 
M  DCCC  LIX. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1858,  by 

WILLIAM    WINTER, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


CAMBRIDGE :   THURSTOX    AKD   TORRY,    PRINTERS. 


"^^x  *   y  '  -y^^^^  ^^ ^jT  /Lf-^ 


1U^-^-^ 


TO     L . 

WiiEiiE  the  poet's  love  has  flown, 
There  the  poet's  songs  may  fly 

And,  as  that  is  all  thine  own, 
Take  thou  these  to  know  it  by  ! 


ivl2(M>2t3 


CONTENTS 


The  Queen's  Domain 

9 

The  Emotion  of  Sympathy 

.      27 

The  Messenger 

.      49 

Louise      .... 

.      55 

The  Star  of  Love  . 

.      59 

Meditations     . 

.      62 

A  Vision  of  the  Street 

67 

The  Coquette  . 

73 

Beauty     .... 

77 

Thoughts  of  Life    . 

.      81 

Manhood  .... 

84 

First  Loye       .         .         .         . 

87 

[5] 


6                                                   CONTENTS. 

The  Murmur  of  the  Kaln 90 

The  Prayer  of  a  Heart 

93 

A  Night  in  June     . 

9G 

Memories  . 

.     100 

Through  the  Darkness  . 

103 

My  Pet  that  Was  . 

lOG 

Light  and  Shadow  . 

.     109 

Good-Bye 

.     Ill 

To  One  who  is  Absent 

.     113 

A  Bridal  Song 

115 

Sabbath  in  Autumn 

117 

A  Voice  of  the  Dead 

119 

The  Lonely  Flower 

.     121 

To  One  in  Heaven  . 

.     123 

Rest!       . 

.     125 

Snow-Drops     . 

127 

One  of  Three 

128 

Alone 

.     129 

The  Last  Scene 

.     130 

My  Faith 

131 

Fortitude 

132 

Hope  in  Sorrow 

133 

Song  for  a  Silver  Wedd 

ing 

134 

contents.  « 

What  the  Stars  Whisper 136 

At  Midnight 137^ 

At  Dawn 139 

To  H.  W.  L 140 

The  True  Way 142 


THE  QUEEN'S  DOMAIN 


THE  QUEEN'S  DOMAIN. 


What  time  the  sinking  sun  with  gorgeous  dye 
Stains  the  cloud  curtains  of  the  western  sky ; 
When  quiet  broods  o'er  all  the  sylvan  scene, 
And  twilight  cometh,  gentle  and  serene  ; 
When  the  cool  wind  of  evening,  light  and  free, 
Breathed  from  the  far-off  waste  of  purple  sea, 
Murmurs  in  slumb'rous  music  ;  when  the  rare. 
Sweet  smell  of  buds  is  floating  in  the  air ; 
And   flowers    are   sleeping  —  so    to   dream   by 

night 
How  lovely  they  will  be  in  morning  light ; 
When  in  the  broad,  blue  arch  steal  out  above. 
The  stars,  which  are  God's  jewel  lamps  of  Love ; 

[11] 


12  THE  queen's  domain. 

Who  hath  not  known  the  holy  cahii  that  brings 
Such  kind  oblivion  of  all  meaner  things  ! 
A  gentle  rapture,  ardent,  pure  and  high  ; 
A  glorious  thrill  of  heavenly  ecstasy  ; 
A  blissful  foretaste  of  that  perfect  peace 
"We   hope,  when  storms    are  past   and    earthly 
trials  cease ! 

On  such  a  night  as  this,  so  mild  and  still, 
When  silence  slept  o'er  Zion's  holy  hill. 
While    purest    starlight    bathed    each    earthly 

thing, 
The  list'ning  shepherds  heard  the  angels  sing. 
Sweet  were  the  accents,  trembling  from  afar. 
As  the  soft  music  of  a  falling  star. 
And  still  we   hear   them    as    they  heard   them 

then  — 
'  O'er   the    earth.    Peace,    and    good-will    unto 


THE    queen's    domain.  13 

So  ever  Nature  teaches.     Still  by  day 
The  grand  old  sun  keeps  his  appointed  way ; 
And  still  by  night  the  gentle  moon  returns, 
And  still  with  stars  the  empyrean  burns  : 
Th'  eternal  stars  that,  calm  and  voiceless,  see 
All  things  which  have  been,  are,  and  yet  shall 

be! 
Still  come  the  seasons  on  and  still  they  pass ; 
The  earth  is  glad  in  trees,  and  flowers,  and  grass  ; 
Still  Nature  hath  her  growth  and  her  decline  — 
A  life  perpetual  and  a  law  divine. 

But  man  is  weary.     As  the  years  sweep  by, 
He  lives  a  mourner,  yet  he  dreads  to  die. 
By  hopes  exalted  and  by  fears  deprest. 
He  knows  no  refuge  and  he  finds  no  rest. 
As  some  frail  bark,  by  angry  billows  tost, 
Her  sails  all  shivered  and  her  compass  lost. 
Borne  frantic  o'er  the  wild  and  wildering  wave. 
From  danger  flies,  to  safety  —  in  the  grave  ; 


14  THE    queen's    domain. 

So  he,  by  waves  of  fierce  ambition  hurled, 
Longs  for  the  spoils  and  triumphs  of  this  world  ; 
Strives,  with  blind  rage  that  will  not  let  him 

rest. 
To  clasp  those  airy  phantoms  to  his  breast 
"Which  still  elude  him  :  till  at  last,  worn  out 
With  sin,  and  suffering,  and  toil,  and  doubt. 
He  hears  and  thrills  at  some  mysterious  call  — 
Death  takes  his  trembling  hand  —  and  that  is 

all! 

Throw    back    the    pall !    there    is    no   anguish 

now ! 
A  frozen  silence  clothes  the  marble  brow. 
No  flush  of  hope,  no  anxious  shade  of  fear. 
But  only  cold,  calm  beauty  slumbers  here. 
Closed  are  the  eyes,  the  lips  are  cold  as  stone  — 
But  oh,  how  eloquent  that  face  has  grown ! 
Past  all  his  troubles,  past  the  long  suspense. 
The  strife  of  aspiration  and  of  sense  — 


THE    queen's    domain.  15 

Safe  ill  a  sacred  peace  forevermore  — 
The  heavenly  radiance  of  the  farther  shore ; 
Through  those  pale  lips  a  voice  yet  seems  to  say, 
*  Strive  not  to  govern  —  learn  thou  to  obey ! 
God's  righteous  laws  close  all  creation  in, 
And  mortal  sorrow  comes  by  mortal  sin. 
Not  Pride  it  is,  but  Love,  that  gives  mankind 
The  priceless  treasure  of  a  peaceful  mind  : 
All  else  is  dross,  the  creature  of  decay, 
But  this,  once  gained,  shall  never  pass  away.' 

So  the  dead  Past  speaks  to  us  :  on  its  face 
A  solemn  starlight  veils  convulsion's  trace. 
The  glow  of  former  triumph  there  appears. 
And  traces  linger  yet  of  former  tears. 
Long  strifes  of  care  those  pallid  cheeks  avow  ; 
No  star  of  empire  glimmers  on  the  brow  ; 
The   glance   of   power    is    dimm'd   in  time's 

eclipse ; 
The  rose  of  beauty  faded  on  the  lips  ; 


16  THE    queen's    domain. 

The  voice  is  hushed ;  but  silence  here  can  reach 
A  shrine  of  feeling  closed  to  human  speech  : 
And,  as  we  gaze,  we  feel  it  did  not  know 
Kest  from  its  strife  in  all  that  outward  show ; 
And  whatsoe'er  the  secret  that  it  keeps, 
It  found  no  peace  in  life,  though  now  it  sleeps 

High    are   the   hopes    which    proud    Ambition 

bears, 
But  dark  the  vesture  Disappointment  wears  : 
That  pursues  phantoms,  luring  to  betray ! 
This   follows    on,   and    claims    and    takes    its 

prey! 
For,  though  th'  ascent  be  rough,  and  steep  the 

fall, 
Ambition  has  but  one  reward  for  all : 
A  little  power,  a  little  transient  fame, 
A  grave  to  rest  in,  and  a  fading  name  ! 
But  never,  never  since  the  world  began, 
Did  that  delusion  bless  the  life  of  man. 


THE    queen's    domain.  17 

With  fainting  heart,  at  Fra  Hilario's  gate, 
Once  did  a  wan  and  way-worn  Pilgrim  wait  I 
Praying,  ere  death  should  give  his  soul  release, 
"What  all  this  world  had  failed  to  grant  him  — 

Peace ! 
And    still,    though    centuries    have    rolled    be- 
tween, 
That  voice  is  heard,  that  solemn  face  is  seen  — 
Pale,    worn    and    haggard  —  and    those   awful 

eyes. 
Wild  with  the  light  of  sleepless  agonies  I 
For    matchless     genius    could    not   save    from 

WTO  ng 
The  grand  old  father  of  the  Tuscan  song ! 

So,  when   the   cares    of    empire   weighed    him 

down, 
The  royal  Spaniard  put  away  his  crown  ; 
In  Yuste's  cloisters  buried  all  his  woes, 
And  sought  the  peaceful  grandeur  of  repose  : 


18  THE  queen's  domain. 

And,  as  when  'reft  the  pomp  of  regal  state, 
Though   great   at   all   times,  never   seemed  so 
great ! 

So  all  these  idle  struggles  close  with  pain : 
So  life  decays  while  peace  is  sought  in  vain : 
So,  in  delusive  toil,  the  moments  fly, 
And   hearts   the  best   and    gentlest  droop   and 

die : 
And  the  dark  shadow  writes  upon  her  scroll 
A   name  —  a   word  —  which    comprehends   the 

whole ! 

Ye  pallid  phantoms  —  oh  ye  forms  sublime 
That  throng  the  shadowy  galleries  of  Time  — 
Ye  mighty  souls  whose  labors  now  are  o'er  — 
Ambition's  votaries  —  will  ye  speak  no  more  ? 
Oh,  looking  downward  from  a  loftier  sphere. 
How   seem    the    ancient    toils    and   triumphs 
here  ? 


THE    queen's    domain.  19 

Where  are  the  old,  deceitful  glories  gone  — 
The  brilliant  meteor  lights  that  led  ye  on  ? 
Do  ye  not  mourn  that  thus  our  souls  obey 
A  treacherous  hope,  a  blind  ambition's  sway  ? 
Alas,  ye  speak  not :  clouds  are  in  the  skies, 
And  still  oblivion's  tides  grow  blacker  as  they 
rise. 

What  star  shall  guide  us  through  the  wildering 

maze  ? 
What  sunshine  gladden  these  inglorious  days  ? 
What  power  protract  this  little  lease  of  breath  ? 
What  magic  veil  the  awful  eyes  of  death  ? 
What   sacred   influence    grant   us,    while   we 

live, 
A  peace  as  pure  as  Heaven  itself  could  give  ? 

Once,  in  this  western  clime,  a  child  of  song. 
Too  poorly  honored  and  forgot  too  long  — 
Sang,  in  sweet  accents,  such  as  love  alone 


20  THE  queen's  domain. 

Wins  from  the  realm  where  first  its  joy  was 

known, 
Pure  words  of  tenderness  and  sacred  truth, 
"Which  live  forever  in  the  glow  of  youth ! 
And  still,  whene'er  our  holiest  memories  rise. 
With  glad  and  grateful  tears  in  dewy  eyes ; 
When  purest  feelings  win  our  souls  to  know 
How  much  of  heaven  we  compass  here  below ; 
Those  simple  words,  those  gentle  tones  reveal 
The  deep,  the  earnest  tenderness  we  feel ! 
And  howsoe'er  life's  fortune  may  be  cast. 
That  fond  affection  lingers  to  the  last; 
And  wakes  in  beauty,  wheresoe'er  we  roam. 
At  the  sweet,  simple  melody  of  "  Home! " 

Oh,   sacred    hearth-stone,    where    the    cheerful 

blaze 
Glows  yet  with  incense  of  departed  days  ; 
Oh,  sacred  refuge  of  our  childhood  bless'd, 
Wc  give  you  tears  that  cannot  be  repress'd  I 


THE    queen's    domain.  21 

While   from   the    past    the   shadows   rise   and 

grow, 
In  fancy's  vision  flitting  to  and  fro ; 
And   smiles,   like     moonbeams    from    a    far-off 

sky 
Which  the  full  moon  lights  up  so  gloriously, 
Strike  through  the  mist  and  reach  us  where  we 

stand ; 
And  once  again  we  clasp  some  cherished  hand  ; 
And  kind   words  thrill  our  hearts,  and  Hope's 

glad  wings 
Fan  roynd  our  way  with  joyous  murmurings  ; 
In  that   pure  haven  where  all  strife  is  still, 
Which  fears  no  danger  and  believes  no  ill. 

This  is  her  temple  —  this  the  Queen's  Domain! 
Here  tender  Love  and  sacred  Virtue  reign ; 
Here  airs  from  heaven   breathe    music  all   the 

while. 
And  sunshine  brighter  is  for  woman's  smile  : 


22  THE  queen's  domain. 

Here    the    swift    days   are    winged   with   new 

delights, 
And  blissful  dreams  enchant  the  quiet  nights ; 
While  worldly  care  relaxes  every  thrall, 
And  Peace,  an  angel,  watches  over  all  I 

Here   the    soul's    pure    affections    have   their 

sway  : 
Here  artless  childhood  learns  to  love  and  pray: 
Confiding  youth,  in  generous  hope  secure. 
Gains  here  the  simple  faith  that  shall  endure 
Through   after    years  —  not   fading,   wan    and 

cold, 
Because  Ihe  world  deceives  as  he  grows  old  : 
Here  gentle  girlhood  tries  its  pretty  wiles. 
With  thought  is  pensive  or  is  gay  with  smiles; 
Hears  in  the  heart  a  strange,  melodious  chime, 
And  yearns  for  mysteries  of  the  coming  time  : 
And  Love  —  the  heart's  religion — folding  round 
Its  wings  of  silence,  makes  this  holy  ground. 


THE  queen's  domain.  23 

This  be  it  womaa's  mission  to  maintain  — 
Protect  through  peril  and  support  in  pain ; 
And,  thus  pursuing  nature's  vast  design, 
To  charm,  ennoble,  strengthen  and  refine  ! 
In  this  calm  refuge  from  the  storms  of  fate, 
Still  may  she  guide  us  to  our  high  estate  ; 
Redeem  our  souls  from  rude  ambition's  strife, 
And  mould  us  to  a  broad  and  perfect  life ! 
And  may  all  stars  of  promise  light  the  dome 
That  rises  beauteous  o'er  her  sacred  home ! 
All  kindly  influence  hover  round  the  spot 
Where    pain    is    soothed    away    and    care 

forgot ! 
All  hues  of  heavenly  hope  and  solace  blent. 
Bathe  its  pure  atmosphere  of  calm  content! 
For  else  this  world  is  weary,  cold,  and  drear. 
And  Peace  a  stranger,  if  it  dwells  not  here. 

Kind  Nature  scatters  with  a  liberal  hand 
Her  gifts  of  beauty  over  every  land  : 


24  THE  queen's  domain. 

Spring  comes  in  sweetness,  Summer  moves  in 

pride, 
Sunlight  and  shadow,  flowers  and  fruits  abide  ; 
And  diamond  morns,  and  noons  of  quiet  rest, 
And  ruby  splendors  in  the  golden  west ! 
All  sights  are  lovely,  for  all  things  are  good 
By  Nature  ordered  in  her  perfect  mood ; 
But  nicer  laws,  in  lovelier  traits  defined, 
Have  decked  the  temple  of  the  human  mind. 
And  grander  strains  of  statelier  music  roll 
Through  the  vast  chambers  of  the  human  soul ! 
The  soul,  which  loyal  to  her  high  behest, 
By  Woman's  love  is  formed,  ennobled,  blest; 
While  to  her  magic  loveliness  it  thrills. 
Mourns     when    she     bids,   rejoices     when     she 

wills ; 
Her   special   charge,   to    whom     the    power   is 

given 
To  bless  us   here  on   earth  and  lead  us  up  to 

heaven. 


THE  queen's  domain.  25 

Sweet  is  the  starlight  of  our  summer  skies, 
But   sweeter   starlight    sleeps    in    those    pure 

eyes! 
The  summer  wind  has  music  in  its  moan, 
But  richer  music  thrills  her  gentle  tone ! 
Within  her  heart  Love's  altar-lamps  are  lit. 
And  sacred  warders  at  the  portal  sit ; 
Before  that  shrine  do  white-robed  angels  kneel. 
And  on  that  brow   Faith  sets  her  beauteous 

seal. 
So,    child-like,  queen-like,   weak  at  once    and 

strong, 
In  regal  innocence  she  moves  along, 
The  heart's  ideal  —  simple,  but  sublime  — 
A  true,  sweet  woman,  purest  born  of  time ! 
Not  hers  the  path  to  glory's  icy  height. 
Not  hers  the  pomp  of  poor  ambition's  fight. 
Not    hers    the    grovelling    strife   of    worldly 

things. 
Nor  all  the  woe  such  life-delusion  brings ; 


26  THE  queen's  domain. 

But  hers  the  sunlight  of  a  peaceful  mind, 
A  trusting  nature,  cheerful  and  resigned  : 
By  fickle  fortune's  buffets  all  unmoved, 
She  only  lives  to  love  and  be  beloved ! 


THE  EMOTION  OF  SYMPATHY, 


lu  memory  of  many  happy  days,  this  poem  —  first  delivered 
before  the  High  School  Association,  at  Cambridge  —  is  now, 
with  kind  regards,  inscribed  to  the  companions  of  my  school 
life. 


THE   EMOTION   OP   SYMPATHY. 
I. 

When,  after  many  a  weary  year  has  flown, 
He  turns  from  foreign  climes  to  hail  his  own, 
What  soft  emotions  thrill  the  exile's  heart ! 
What  kindly  tears  of  tender  gladness  start! 
How  from  the  past  the  shadowy  shapes  arise. 
While  memory's  pictures  flit  before  his  eyes, 
And  every  sound  and  every  step  betray 
Remembered  tokens  of  some  happier  day. 

Here  the  old  mansion  where  his  early  years  — 

Youth's    rosy    dawning    flecked   with    silver 

tears  — 

[29] 


30  THE    EMOTION    OF    SYMPATHY. 

Went  by  so  smoothly  it  would  almost  seem 
As  the  mild  memory  of  a  pleasing  dream. 
Here  a  kind  father  reared  his  cherished  boy  ; 
A  mother's  love  here  watched  a  mother's  joy; 
The  artless  prattle  of  an  infant  voice 
Here  waked  their   smiles  and  bade  their  hearts 

rejoice  : 
And   day  by  day  they  watched  and  strove  to 

trace 
The  mind  awak'ning  in  his  youthful  face ; 
Upon  his  brow  saw  deeper  thoughts  arise, 
And  wilder  meaning  tremble  in  his  eyes, 
As  various  feeling  variously  exprest 
The  strife  of  nature  in  his  little  breast. 

But  time  went  ceaselessly  :  joy's  rosy  hour 
Grew  dim  with   clouds,   and  storms   began    to 

lower. 
New  joys  there  were  for  him,  but  grief  and  pain 
Taught  their  sad  lesson  —  never  learned  in  vain  I 


THE    EMOTION    OP    SYMPATHY.  31 

And,  as  with  sober  steps  and  much  delay, 
He  moves  along  the  unfrequented  way, 
On  every  side  some  little  tokens  tell 
The  sweet,  old  story,  still  remembered  well. 

Here,  when  a  boy,  he  played  ;  here  first  he  met 
Those  cherished  friends  he  never  can  forget ; 
Here  a  good  mother  taught  him  to  be  blest  — 
There  is  the  churchyard  where  she  lies  at  rest ! 
And  other  graves  are  there  —  names  no  less  dear 
Spring  to  his  lips  and  claim  the  exile's  tear. 
"Where  are  they  now,  the  joyful  and  the  free. 
The  merry  voices,  only  heard  in  glee. 
The    hands    so  warmly  clasped,  her  plighted 

heart 
With  whom  'twas  heaven  to  live  and  death  to 

part,— 
Where  are  they  all  ?     Alas,  the  echoes  say. 
These   things  have    been,    but   these    are    past 

away. 


32  THE    EMOTION    OF    SYMPATHY. 

Perchance  'tis  evening :  In  the  western  sky, 
Deep  drawn  the  tints  of  God's  own  splendor  lie. 
Soft  are  the  airs  that  stir  the  rustling  grain. 
And  sweet  the  odors  rising  from  the  plain. 
But  not  for  him  is  beauty's  veil  withdrawn, 
Whose    heart   is   lonely    and   w^hose    hope    is 

gone  I 
The  blended  hues  that  tint  the  glowing  west ; 
The  purple  clouds  that  wrap  the   mountain's 

crest ; 
The  liberal  fragrance  of  the  scented  air 
That  cools  the  brow  and  lifts  the  waving  hair; 
The   leaves,    low   whispering,   when    the    silver 

light 

Of  the  young  moon  streams  through  the  startled 

night. 
And  all  the  beauty  of  the  earth  is  spread. 
With  that  of  heaven,  around  and  overhead  — 
All  these  but  turn  his  wearied  heart   to  pray 
For  what  once  was,  but  now  has  passed  away. 


THE    EMOTION    OF    SYMPATHY.  33 

So  here  to-night  we  come,  and  memory's  spell 
Wakes  thoughts  which  human  language  cannot 

tell. 
Gathered   in   friendship    here  —  not   sad,   like 

him  — 
No  heart  beats  coldly  and  no  eyes  are  dim. 
The  joyful  greeting  and  the  glad  reply, 
Hope  in  each  heart  and  life  in  every  eye, 
These  tell  a  different  tale,  for  these  declare 
No  lingering  sorrow  that  is  like  despair. 
And  yet,  full  sadly  must  our  hearts  avow 
Some  were  with  us  who  are  not  with  us  now. 
Thoughts  of  the  dead  are  always  sad,  and  yet, 
Those  we  have  loved  we  never  can  forget. 
Kind  eyes  look  sweetly  through  the  shadowy 

gloom. 
And  mournful  voices  whisper  from  the  tomb. 
While,  with  low  tone  and  mildly  pensive  eye. 
We  speak  their  names  whose  doom  has  been  to 

die. 


34  THE    EMOTION    OF    SYMPATHY. 

To-night  the  starlight  of  affection  falls 

In  memory's  cloisters  and  her  storied  halls  ; 

And    scenes   of   pleasm'e   past,   and   scenes  of 

pain, 
In  that  mild  lustre  wake  to  life  again : 
Old  days  come  back,  remembered  joys  assume 
The  rosy  freshness  of  their  earlier  bloom  ; 
All  hearts  are  glad,  and  e'en  the  brow  of  care 
Wears  the  rich  glow  it  once  was  used  to  wear. 
In  every  heart  a  sense  of  pleasure  lives, 
And  friendship  gladdens  by  the  joy  it  gives  : 
While     reigns   o'er    all  —  now    worldly    trials 

cease  — 
The  gentle  spell  of  pure  and  heavenly  peace. 


II. 


Whence   flows   this   tide    of    feeling?    whence 

arise 
These  kindly  thoughts,  these  sympathetic  sighs  ? 


THE    EMOTION    OF    SYMPATHY.  35 

What  mystic  influence  thus  controls  the  mind, 
To  vice  repugnant  and  to  virtue  kind  ? 
Scatters  all  blessings  where  the  good  have  trod, 
And  lives  from  man  to  man,  and  thus  from  man 
to  God  ? 

In  the  beginning,  when  th'  Eternal's  word 
Pealed  through  the   deeps    and   startled  chaos 

heard, 
Confusion  changed  and  grew  beneath  his  eye 
To  perfect  concord  and  sweet  harmony. 
Fast  fly  the  trembling  shades,  and  now  arise 
The  morning  glories  born  of  Paradise  ! 
Rich  floods  of  light  the  formless  void  reveal, 
Through  which  fair  shapes  and  gradual  beauties 

steal ! 
The  stately  orbs  in  solemn  silence  pace 
Their  circling  courses  through  th'  eternal  space  ! 
A  perfect  system  circumscribes  the  whole. 
And  God  the  union  is,  and  God  the  soul ! 


36  THE    EMOTION    OF    SYMTATHY. 

So  harmony  pervades  the  general  plan, 

But  finds  perfection  in  the  soul  of  man. 

The  stars  may  burn,  the  moons  may  wax  and 

wane, 
The  circling  seasons  pass  and  come  again  — 
Yet  all  these  changes,  beauteous  though  they  be, 
Can  faintly  type  the  eternal  unity : 
While,  in  the  mighty  human  soul  we  find 
Some  index  of  the  universal  mind. 

Of  what  avail  the  various  force  of  man 
Life  to  explore  and  nature's  God  to  scan  ? 
Fair  science  fails  and  reason  cannot  stray 
Beyond  the  precincts  of  her  trivial  day ; 
Else  all  is  dark,  the  ocean  and  the  sky  — 
Loud  rings  her  challenge,  but  there's  no  reply! 
Still,  in  the  promptings  of  the  soul  we  know 
His  power,  who  made  and  governs  all  below ; 
And  Nature's  voice,  to  those  who  comprehend, 
Gives  blessed  assurance  of  one  steadfast  friend. 


THE    EMOTION    OF    SYMPATHY.  37 

Go,  ask  the  ocean  bursting  on  the  shore  — 

It  answers  proudly  with  its  hollow  roar ! 

Ask  the  broad   heaven,  and  all   your  murmurs 

cease  — 
Its  calm  brow  awes  you  into  perfect  peace. 
The  stars  come  forth,  in  golden  splendor  shine, 
And  sweetly  whisper  of  the  life  divine. 
In  all  that  thrills  the  ear  or  meets  the  eye 
There  lives  a  beauty  which  is  mystery  ; 
And  thus  with  silent  influence  they  show 
What  reason  cannot  teach  and  does  not  know. 

Take   here  your   stand   when  night  is  coming 

down. 
And  dusky  shadows  wrap  the  silent  town  : 
Ere  while  the  dying  sun  flushed  all  the  west 
With    his   rich    crimson    blood,    and    sunk    to 

rest. 
But  now  the  moon  a  gentler  light  distils. 
And  silence  broods  o'er  all  the  misty  hills  ; 


38  THE    EMOTION    OF    SYMPATHY. 

Soft  through   the  trees  the  wind  of   evening 

sighs, 
And  soft  the  murmurs  of  the  sea  arise ; 
Far    up    the    beach,    spread    forth   on    either 

hand, 
The  moonlit  water  beats  the  silver  sand  ; 
Light   wreaths    of  foam  curl  up  with  snowy 

sheen, 
And   music    thrills   the   air,    and    charms   the 

heavenly  scene. 

Or  come  when  midnight  clothes  the  dusky  hill, 
And  the  dark  forest  slumbers,  deep  and  still ; 
Save  —  as  the  restless  sleeper  heaves  a  sigh  — 
The   brown    leaves   murmur   when    the  winds 

sweep  by ; 
And  the  pure  stars,  with  holy  lustre  bright. 
Shed  their  rich  glory  o'er  the  peaceful  night. 
There  the  calm  river  slowly  murmurs  by  : 
Along  this  plain  the  sleeping  hamlets  lie : 


THE    EMOTION    OF    SYMPATHY.  39 

The   small,    white   houses    couched  upon   the 

plain  : 
The  meadows,  rough  with  sheaves  of  golden 

grain : 
Some  little  spires  here  rise  and  intervene  — 
There  tlie  low,  misty  hills  close  round  and  shut 

the  scene. 


III. 


What  gentle  thoughts,  what  tender  memories 

rise, 
When    scenes  like  these    engage  our   raptured 

eyes ! 
How  throng  the  silent  years,  how  rise  amain 
The  phantom  shapes  of  pleasure  and  of  pain ! 
How  fondly  do  our  memories  haste  to  dwell 
With  those  dear  ones  whom   we  have  loved  so 

well ! 


40  THE    EMOTION    OF    SYMPATEIY. 

How  ardently  our  longing  souls  recall 
Whom  death  has  taken  from  this  being's  thrall! 
And  then  how  gradual  and  how  sure  the  pause 
To  ponder  of  God's  government  and  laws ; 
To  ask  of  brighter,  happier  worlds  than  this 
And  awful  secrets  of  the  dark  abyss ! 
Thus  all  that's  beautiful,  or  soon  or  late, 
Leads  us  to  question  of  a  future  state. 

What  do  we  live  for  ?  whence  those  hopes  and 

fears 
Which  nerve  us  to  the  conflict  of  our  years  ? 
What  after  all  remains,  when  life  is  sped, 
And  man  is  gathered  to  the  silent  dead  ? 
Home  to  the  narrow  house,  the  long,  long  sleep, 
Where    pain   is   stilled,  and    sorrow   doth    not 

weep. 

Tossed  on  the  ever-ebbing  tide  of  time  — 
A  stream  resistless,  rapid  and  sublime  — 


THE    EMOTION    OF    SYMPATHY.  41 

One    moment   seen,   man    flits   from   wave    to 

wave, 
Then  sinks  forever  in  the  treacherous  grave  : 
Sinks,  and  is  seen  no  more ;  no  more  is  known  ; 
Sleeps  the   dark,  dreamless    sleep,  unmourned, 

but  not  alone. 

What  then  remains  to  tell  that  he  hath  been  ? 
What  record  shows  his  virtue  or  his  sin  ? 
W^hat  power  reviews  the  life  which  ebbs  away, 
Bursts   the   thick   darkness    and   leads   on   the 

day? 
Adjusts  the  balance,  weighing  every  deed  — 
Was  evil  spurned,  or  virtue  doomed  to  bleed  ? 
Did  he  great  objects  in  his  life  attain. 
Or  was  existence  given  him  in  vain  ? 
And  this  to  answer,  summons  to  its  place 
Each  thought,  each  action  of  his  earthly  race ; 
Applies  them  all,  and,  to  the  general  plan 
Makes  one  subservience  of  the  life  of  man  ? 


42  THE    EMOTION    OF    SYMPATHY. 

Perplexing  questions!     How  shall  we  decide  ? 
Invoke  what  counsel  and  entreat  what  guide  ? 
Life,  unexplored,  is  hope's  perpetual  blaze  — 
When   past,  one  long,   involved  and  darksome 

maze  : 
But,  that  some  mighty  power  controls  the  whole, 
A  secret  intuition  tells  the  soul. 
No  longer  then  in  wandering  doubt  to  grieve, 
We  cannot  demonstrate,  and  yet  believe  ! 

If  he  one  generous  act  performed  on  earth  ; 
If  to  one  noble  thought  he  e'er  gave  birth  ; 
If  one  kind  word,  to  suffering  weakness  given. 
Fell  from  his  lips  as  manna  fell  from  heaven  ; 
If  e'er  his  eye  one  pitying  tear  distilled  ; 
One  throb  of  sympathy  his  heart  has  thrilled ; 
If  he  hath  bowed  beneath  the  chastening  rod. 
Forgive  the  weakness  of  a  child  of  God  I 
Spare,  spare  the  follies  of  an  erring  brain. 
Judge  not  his  faults  —  he  has  not  lived  in  vain  I 


THE    EMOTION    OF    SYMPATHY.  43 

IV. 

See  now- — but  calmly  see,  if  you  are  wise  — 
The  tender  beauty  of  those  sweet,  blue  eyes  ! 
See  all  the  soul,  informed  with  modest  grace, 
Those  eyes  suffuse  and  mantle  in  that  face  : 
The  rosy  cheek  behold,  the  damask  glow. 
The  soft,  warm  lips,  the  pearly  teeth  below  : 
Lips,  that  with  words  bewitchingly  will  part  — 
"Words —  music,  gushing  from  her  gentle  heart : 
See  the  full  bust,  the  fairly  rounded  arm. 
The  tapering  figure  and  the  peering-  charm ! 
What  lends  that  mystic   grace?     What  thrills 

the  soul  ? 
The  nameless  mystery  that  enshrouds  the  whole  : 
That  mystery  which  wakes  whene'er  it  will 
The  natural  throb,  the  sympathetic  thrill. 

Shall  woman's  love,  of  mother,  sister,  wife  — 
The  richest  blessing  of  this  mortal  life  — 


44  THE    EMOTJON    OF    SYMPATHY. 

Rccuive  no  tribute,  humble  though  it  be, 

For  so  much  truth  and  so  much  purity  ? 

No  I  while  the  heart  can  feel,  or  lips  can  speak. 

Our  words  shall  fail  not,  though  our  words  are 

weak  : 
Weak  to  express  what  bends  each  noble  soul 
In  glad  submission  to  its  sweet  control ; 
Which  smooths  each  wrinkle  from  the  brow  of 

care, 
And  sets  eternal  youth  in  beauty  there  ; 
Makes  life  a  rosy  landscape  opening  wide, 
And  lights  the  waters  of  death's  dismal  tide ! 
For,  as  sometimes,  the  murky  clouds  between. 
The  moonlight  falls,  a  quiet  holy  sheen. 
So  love  illumes  that  wild  and  awful  way 
With  golden  splendors  of  the  rising  day  ; 
Pierces   the   gloom    of  death    and  points   the 

road 
To    our    celestial   home    and    God's    divine 

abode. 


THE    EMOTION    OF    SYMPATHY.  45 

Content  with  this  our  lives  might  glide  along 
Smoothly  and  sweetly  as  a  fairy  song. 
In  vain  we  seek  to  know  our  future  fate, 
And  scarcely  comprehend  our  present  state  : 
But  this   we   feel  —  that   while  our  hearts  are 

pure, 
Our  lives  are  happy  and  our  peace  is  sure : 
Though  sorrow's  tears  may  sometimes  dim  the 

eye, 
Love  dries  the  tear   and   checks   the  lin merino: 

sigh. 
And   while    this   world     such   varied    beauties 

bless  — 
Rare  youthful  grace,  and  maiden  loveliness, 
Stern   manhood's    power,   and    noble    woman's 

charm  — 
All  pain  to  soothe  and  every  care  disarm  : 
While  friendship  glistens  in  the  happy  eye  ; 
While  hope  remains  —  and  hope  should  never 

die ; 


46  THE    EMOTION    OF    SYMPATHY. 

Wliile  there's  one  cheek  from  which  to  wipe 

the  tear; 
One  lonely  heart  to  cherish  and  to  cheer ; 
While  there's  on  earth  one  noble  deed  to  do, 
We  sin  to  murmur  at  the  good  and  true  I 
For  all  things  are  of  God  to  mortal  man, 
His  the  high  law  and  His  the  heavenly  plan  ! 


IDYLS  AND  LYRICS. 


THE  MESSENGER. 

"  Astra  regunt  homines,  sed  regit  astra  Deus.^* 

As  one,  who,  at  a  suQimer  twilight  sky, 

Looketh  long  and  solemnly  ; 

Noting,  in  their  slow  decay, 

How  the  sunbeams  glance  and  play, 

As  the  daylight  wanes  away  ; 

How  the  stars  come  out  and  shine 

Over  the  departing  day; 

How  all  shapes,  of  various  dye. 

Glimmer,  glimmer,  wandering  by ; 

Till  he  loses  every  hue 
In  one  deep  and  stainless  blue. 
Where  the  stars  are  gleaming  through  ; 

4  [49] 


50  THE    MESSENGER. 

And,  while  the  cool  wind  of  the  west 
Breathes  upon  his  brow  and  breast, 
Whispering,  as  it  passes  on, 
Of  the  spirits  that  are  gone  ; 
Hearkens  if  his  soul  may  gain 
Knowledge  of  the  far  domain, 
Where  the  souls  that  God  has  blest, 
Dwelling  in  celestial  rest, 
Never  know  this  mortal  pain 
And  this  longing  wild  and  vain  ;  — 

So,  into  those  eyes  of  thine. 
Beauteous  with  a  love  divine, 
Lighting  up  with  saintly  grace 
All  that  calm  and  patient  face. 
Shining  as  the  pale  stars  shine  —      ' 

Do  I  gaze  and  strive  to  see 
What  thy  hidden  thought  may  be  ; 
What  the  music  in  thy  heart 
Thou  didst  bring  with  thee  from  heaven  ; 
What  thy  perfect  nature's  art, 


THE    MESSENGER.  51 

By  white  angels  given  ; 

What  revelations  God  has  sent  with  thee, 

And  all  thy  pure  soul's  wondrous  mystery. 

Deep,  glorious  eyes,  which  thrill  the  night 

And  glad  the  brightest  day, 
My  poor  heart  trembles  in  your  sight, 
I  cannot  read  your  spells  aright, 

I  know  not  what  ye  say ! 
My  spirit  shrinks  beneath  your  light 

And  half  forgets  to  pray. 
For,  like  the  holy  stars  ye  are. 

Which  shine  through  heaven  in  the 
lone  midnight  hour ; 
I  bend  and  worship  them  afar, 

And  ask  the  secret  of  their  steadfast 
power : 
They  hold  me  in  their  mystic  thrall, 
They  shine  —  but  they  are  silent  all ! 


52  THE    MESSENGER. 

Upon  that  brow  so  white  and  fair 
There  is  not  any  line  of  care  ; 
Upon  that  clear  pearl  cheek  of  thine 

Tears  have  not  left  a  single  stain. 
Thy  face  is  sweet  with  heavenly  calm, 
And  lightest  word  of  thine  is  balm 

And  comfort  for  the  heart  of  pain  : 
But  ah,  this  iron  self-control. 
Is  sorrow's  lesson  to  the  soul  — 

Once  learned  and  never  taught  again ! 
And  can  it  be  that  one  so  pure. 
So  good,  so  noble  as  thou  art, 
Has    felt    this    fire    sweep    through    the 
heart 

And  so  become  secure  ? 
I  will  not  think  it !     Sin  alone 
Brings  sorrow's  blight  and  sorrow's  moan. 

And  power  to  endure  : 
But  I  will  think  thy  spirit  sent 

Awhile  to  pine  in  mortal  frame, 


THE    MESSENGER.  53 

Seeking  us  in  our  darkness  pent, 
And  agony  of  doubt  and  shame : 

Awhile  in  this  cold  world  to  roam, 
A  messenger  from  God  on  high, 

To  win  us  to  that  blissful  home 

His  love  can  grant  us  when  we  die ! 

And,  with  that  thought,  I  will  not  weep 

When   death   has   sealed   those   eyes  in 
sleep. 

It  would  be  sad  to  think  thee  gone 

Did  I  not  know. 
The  way  that  thou  shalt  journey  on, 

I  too  must  go. 
And  ever  as  the  swift  days  glide, 

My  hope  will  be 
To  cast  this  weary  life  aside 

And  rest  with  thee. 
For  sometimes,  when  the  strife  is  loud, 
And  angry  voices  harsh  and  wild, 


54  THE    MESSENGER. 

I  shrink  from  the  bewildering  crowd 

And  wish  I  were  a  little  child  ; 
Or —  sweeter,  surer  hope  —  were  laid 
In  the  still  grave,  by  friendship  made! 
For  there  the  birds  would  come  and  go, 
And  there  the  whispering  grasses  grow, 
And  there  the  idle  winds  would  blow  — 

Nor  should  I  be  afraid  : 
For  gentle  peace  is  ever  there. 
And  calm  repose  from  worldly  care. 


LOUISE. 


Pale  she  was  as  a  lily  leaf, 
My  poor  I.<ouise  I 
And  we  knew,  from  the  calm  of  her  saintly  eyes, 
And  the  gentle  tone  of  her  sweet  replies. 
And  her  kindness,  that  flooded  the  heart  with 
surprise, 
'J'hat  her  bosom  was  laden  with  secret  grief — 
Deeply  hidden,  beyond  relief  — 
My  poor  Louise  ! 

Ever  the  same  from  morn  till  night, 
Pensive  and  mild  I 

[55] 


56  LOUISE. 

In  her  gentle  ways  there  was  nothing  of  art, 
And  her  kindness,  it  was  of  the  breaking  heart, 

Or  that  which  is  broken  quite. 
Sometimes  her  dark  blue  eyes  grew  dim 

And  dreamy  with  excess  of  pain. 
And  tears  seemed  rising  to  their  brim  — 

And  then  her  sorrow  ebbed  again : 

And  so  she  smiled  — 
A  smile  delirious,  ghastly,  wild  — 

My  poor  Louise  I 

A  thing  she  was  of  perfect  grace. 
Of  angel  beauty  in  forrn  and  face  — 

My  poor  Louise  ! 
Soft,  golden  hair  in  many  a  curl 
Shaded  a  sweet  brow,  pure  as  pearl, 
And  fell  in  an  airy,  graceful  flow 
On  the  delicate  bosom,  white  as  snow, 

Of  poor  Louise. 
Her  lips  in  a  beauteous  curve  of  pain 


57 


Were  bent  and  formed  to  a  pretty  pout ; 
And  in  her  eyes  the  smile  was  vain 
To  hide  the  sorrow  looking  out; 

But  we  never  heard 

A  murmuring  word, 
And  though  we  saw  in  those  eyes  so  fair 

That  same  sweet  smile, 

Yet  all  the  while 
We  knew  that  death  was  lurking  there. 

At  sunset  of  an  August  day 

Her  sad  eyes  closed,  and  tranquilly 

She  breathed  her  sweet  young  life  away  — 

J\Iy  poor  Louise. 
That  heart  no  longer  to  and  fro 
Beat  with  the  heavy  throb  of  woe ; 
Nor  did  those  tender  eyes,  as  once. 
Give  to  it  joyless  utterance  ; 

But  all  was  hushed  and  still. 
Her  features,  calm  in  perfect  rest ; 


58  LOUISE. 

The  marble  stillness  of  her  breast, 
On  which  her  thin  white  hands  did  lie 
Crossed  and  folded  peacefully  ; 
The  flowers,  with  hues  of  beauty  warm, 
Strewn  on  the  pall  that  wrapped  her  form ; 
The  last  fond  kiss  —  'twill  never  fly 
Thy  solemn  haunts,  Oh  memory  I 
The  forms  around  in  sable  dress ; 

The  mournful  tone  ; 
And  then  the  sense  of  dreariness, 

And  being  all  alone  ;  — 
Ah,  how  these  phantoms  haunt  me  yet! 
These,  these  I  never  can  forget. 

Nor  poor  Louise. 


THE  STAR  OF  LOVE. 


There  hangs  a  star  in  the  western  sky  — 
Merrily  blows  the  wind  by  night ! 

It  twinkles  and  glows  like  an  angel's  eye, 
And  the  sky  is  blue,  and  the  snow  is  white, 

And  merrily  blows  the  wind  by  night. 

'Tis  the  star  of  love  that  I  gaze  on  there  — 
Merrily  blows  the  wind  by  night ! 

And  it  speaks  to  my  soul  of  the  good  and  fair 
That  forever  and  ever  have  left  my  sight ; 

Ah,  drearily  sobs  the  wind  by  night ! 

[591 


60  THE    STAR    OF    LOVE. 

Some  ill  the  graveyards  lie  asleep  — 

Merrily  blows  the  wind  by  night ! 
Over  them  snows  are  drifted  deep, 

Cold  as  their  bones,  and  pm-e  and  white. 
While  merrily  blows  the  wind  by  night. 

And  some  there  are  w^hose  haughty  hearts 
Are  frozen  hard  in  shame  and  sin ; 

No  tone  of  music  e'er  departs. 
No  ray  of  sunlight  enters  in  ; 

Cold  like  the  snow,  but  not  so  white  — 

While  the  merry  wind  shakes  the  pall  of  night. 

This  life  of  ours  is  wild  unrest, 

And  light  and  shadow,  and  joy  and  woe, 
And  then  the  sod  is  over  us  prest. 

And  merrily  on  the  winds  do  blow : 
And  the  self-same  stars  that  shine  to-night. 

Will  shine  on  our  graves  when  we  are  gone ; 
And  the  snow  will  cover  us,  tranquil  and  white. 


THE    STAR    OF    LOYE.  61 

And  the  musical  wind  blow  merrily  on  : 
For  the  sky  is  blue,  and  the  snow  is  white, 
And  merrily  blows  the  wind  by  night. 

Shine  on  thou  beautiful  star,  shine  on, 

In  thy  brilliant  beauty  bold  and  bright  I 
For  the  world  in  darkness  waits  the  dawn, 

And  merrily  blows  the  wind  by  night. 
Let  hearts  grow  cold  that  once  were  glad, 
And  eyes  once  bright  grow  dim  and  sad. 
And  cheeks  turn  pale,  and  slow  decay 
And  fever  waste  our  lives  away  ; 
Yet,  in  thy  radiant  home  above. 
Shine  on  —  and  hear  us  talk  of  love  I 
Shine  on,  o'er  all  this  ghastly  sight. 
And  hark  to  the  wind  that  sings  by  night  — 
To  the  jolly  old  wind  that  sings  by  night ! 
For  the  sky  is  blue,  and  the  snow  is  white. 
And  merrily  blows  the  wind  by  night. 


MEDITATIONS. 


I  TURNED,  and  from  my  window  towards  the 
west 

Beheld  the  setting  sun 
Slowly  and  gently  sinking  to  his  rest, 

For  now  the  melancholy  day  was  done. 

Slowly  he  sank  and  faded,  and  I  saw. 

Riding  upon  the  blast, 
A  shadowy  form,  the  phantom  storm-king,  draw 

A  veil  of  cloud  behind  him  as  he  passVl. 

[62] 


MEDITATrONS.  63 

Thus,  said  I  in  my  heart,  the  promise  fades 

Whereby  our  youth  is  cheered  ; 
Thus,  said  I,  gather  sorrow's  gloomy  shades, 

When   this   hath  faded  and  hath   disap- 
peared. 

Life,  said  I  in  my  heart,  is  dark  and  cold  ; 

With  thorns  its  pathway  strewn  : 
We  only  live,  in  suffering  to  grow  old. 

And  each  one  journeys  to  the  grave  alon_\ 

Man,  said  I  in  my  heart,  is  full  of  sin, 

And  woman  of  deceit; 
There  is  no  joy  without,  no  peace  within. 

And  human  misery  is  alone  complete. 

So  through  the  dreary  night  I  paced  the  floor 

Solemnly  to  and  fro  ; 
Turning  the  varied  leaves  of  memory  o'er  — 

Those  silent  records  of  the  long  ago. 


64  MEDITATIOXS. 

Till  through  the  casement  streamed  a  silver 
light, 
Shed  from  the  rising  moon, 
And  broadly  on  my  dim  and  dazzled  sight 

Blazed  the  rich  radiance  of  the  midnight 
noon. 

I  hailed  the  omen — but,  with  deep  unrest, 
Still  sneered  that  gloomy  pride  ; 

When  suddenly,  within  my  troubled  breast, 

A  soft  and  sweetly  murmuring  voice  re- 
plied ; 

'  Lo  I   as  beneath  the  clouds  those  moonbeams 
make 
Rich  splendor  o'er  the  whole. 
So  through    the    clouds    of   doubt    and    error 
break 
The  rays  of  truth  that  stream  upon  the 
soul. 


MEDITATIONS. 


65 


Your  life  is  what  you  make  it ;  to  your  hands 

That  sacred  trust  is  given  ; 
And  you  too  oft  with  treason  break  the  bands 

That    would    unite    you    blissfully    to 
heaven. 

Then  droop  not  yet,  nor  quench  the  light  of 
hope 
In  the  heart's  wild  despair  I 
If  many  cares  there  are  with  which  to  cope, 
God  gives  us  strength  to  conquer,  or  to 
bear! 

And  God  is  just.      This  world   is   plain   to 
him ; 
Love  is  his  potent  spell ; 
And   though  to  you    the    glorious    plan    be 
dim, 
Have  faith,  and  trust  that  all  shall  yet  be 
well! 
5 


66  MEDITATIONS. 

Sec  far  across  the  mountain  peaks  of  time 

An  awful  light  arise  — 
The  glow  etherial  and  the  hope  sublime, 

In  that  eternal  land  beyond  the   sunset 
skies.' 


A  VISION   OF  THE  STREET, 


Throughout  all  the  livelong  day, 
In  the  highways,  up  and  down, 

You  can  see  them  take  their  way  — 
Stately  prince  and  shabby  clown. 

One  with  proud,  majestic  head, 
Flashing  eye  and  waving  hair ; 

One  with  heavy,  slouching  tread. 
And  a  sullen  look  of  care. 

Here  the  trader  hurries  by, 
Bustling  at  a  nervous  pace, 

With  a  cold  and  glittering  eye, 
And  a  sallow  withered  face. 

[G7] 


68  A    VISION    OF    THE    STREET. 

There  the  portly  man  of  wealth, 
Unctuous,  mellow,  fat  and  free  ; 

Rubicund  with  rosy  health  — 
Who  so  vast  a  man  as  he ! 

Here  the  starveling  totters  on, 

Hung  with  rags  and  flecked  with  mud  ; 
Fainting,  fainting,  weak  and  wan, 

In  among  the  multitude. 

Here  is  flaunting  fashion's  glare, 

Here  is  modesty  sedate  : 
Sin  and  sorrow  everywhere  — 

Everywhere  is  pride  and  state. 

Every  varied  phase  of  life 

Rich  and  poor,  and  great  and  small  — 
Man  and  boy,  and  maid  and  wife,  — 

But,  one  God  is  over  all  I 


A    VISION    or    THE    STREET.  69 

II. 

Wherefore  comes  it  things  are  so  ? 

Why  so  different  in  degree  ? 
Do  not  all  life's  currents  flow 

To  the  same  Eternity  ? 

Wherefore  all  the  strife  and  pain 

And  the  evil  'neath  the  skies  ? 
Springs  it  not  from  wishes  vain, 

And  from  fools  who  fight  to  rise  ? 

For  these  things  all  men  should  pray  — 

Quiet  heart  and  quiet  head  : 
Turning  from  his  thorny  way, 

^^ Peace  "  the  stern  Italian  said. 

Wherefore  fret  your  soul  for  gain  ? 

'Tis  not  long  that  you  shall  stay. 
Ere  this  little  vital  pain 

Fails,  and  then  you  drop  away. 


70  A    VISION    OF    THE    STKEET. 

Wherefore  fret  your  soul  for  fame  ? 

When  to  life  you've  said  adieu, 
Whosoever  speaks  your  name 

Will  be  mortal,  even  as  you. 

Man  is  little  at  the  best  — 

Narrow  both  in  heart  and  brain  ; 

And  if  Love  hath  never  blest 
Then  his  life  is  all  in  vain. 

Still  sometimes,  as  in  the  past, 
Souls  Miltonic  flash  and  flame ; 

Brows  are  reared  which  speak  the  vast, 
Dome-like  brain  of  Verulam  ! 

These  the  men  to  whom  'tis  given 
Truth  to  champion  and  sustain  ! 

These  make  clear  the  way  to  heaven, 
Suflering  all  the  deeper  pain. 


A    VISION    OF    THE    STREET.  71 

Noble  as  the  men  of  old  — 

Lo,  the  Laureate  of  the  Isle! 
And  the  proud,  majestic,  bold, 

Hero  spirit,  stem  Carlyle  ! 

Such  the  men  who  lead  the  van  : 
Such  the  men  who  toil  for  you  : 

Trust  in  these,  thou  weaker  man, 
Trust,  and  render  them  their  due  ! 

You  have  not  the  soul  to  cope 

With  this  mighty  iron  age ! 
Trust,  for  in  them  lies  your  hope 

Of  a  quiet  pilgrimage. 

Lesser  law  should  govern  you 

Than  the  law  which  governs  them : 

Lesser  toil  you  have  to  do 
For  the  self-same  diadem. 


72  A    VISION    OF    THE    STREET. 


"  Each  thing  in  its  place  is  best," 
Sings  the  noblest  of  our  bards  : 

In  your  lowliness  have  rest  — 

Love  and  Peace  are  your  rewards. 


All  the  past  this  truth  inspires  ; 

Unto  this  is  wisdom  bent  ;  — 
Bound  your  life  with  few  desires, 

Humble  hopes  and  calm  content. 


THE   COQUETTE, 


No,  you  are  not  happy  now, 

Though  you  seem  so  gay  and  proud  ; 
There's  a  shadow  on  your  brow, 

And  your  laugh  is  quick  and  loud. 
Do  not  tell  me  J  am  wrong, 

For  deceit  is  never  well : 
Having  worn  the  mask  so  long, 

All  it  covers  I  can  tell ; 
And  I  see  you've  come  to  know 
Love's  swift  ebb  and  misery's  flow. 

[73] 


74  THE    COQUETTE. 

Was  she  generous,  free  and  brave, 

Yet  affectionate  and  meek  ? 
Did  she,  when  her  hand  she  gave. 

Sweetly  smile  and  softly  speak  ? 
Did  her  mild  eyes  blind  you  quite. 

And,  as  you  were  all  alone. 
Was  her  bosom,  full  and  white. 

Gently  pressed  against  your  own  ? 
Tell  me,  is  the  picture  true  ? 
Has  she  practiced  thus  with  you  ? 

Did  you  think  that  all  was  well, 

When  you  held  her  in  your  arms  ? 
Did  you  never  doubt  the  spell  ? 

Had  your  heart  no  cold  alarms  ? 
When  she  murmured  sweet  and  low 

Of  the  love  that  thrilled  her  breast. 
Did  you  then  believe  it  so. 

Thinking  you  were  richly  blest  ? 
Ah  poor  soul,  'twas  nothing  new. 
She  has  cheated  others  too. 


THE    COQITETTE.  75 

You  are  sad,  or  I  mistake ! 

All  this  world  seems  dark  and  chill ; 
For  you  think  your  heart  will  break  — 

And  'tis  like  enough  it  will. 
She  has  torn  your  peace  away, 

But  her  own  peace  she  has  kept : 
Have  you  heard  her  mother  say 

How  surprisingly  she  slept  ? 
She  is  of  the  tranquil  kind  — 
Very  easy  in  her  mind. 

And  her  life-stream  will  flow  on 

O'er  the  same  unvaried  flat; 
And,  should  you  be  dead  and  gone, 

She  won't  care  a  straw  for  that. 
By  and  by  her  life  will  fade, 

And  she'll  ornament  a  pall ; 
And,  although  the  paltry  jade 

Never  had  a  heart  at  all. 
Should  you  live,  you'll  go  and  weep 
Where  her  worthless  ashes  sleep. 


76  THE    COQUETTE. 

Let  the  happy  children  shout! 

Shadow  comes  with  sunny  token : 
Let  the  merry  bells  ring  out ! 

Yet  shall  hearts  be  seared  and  broken. 
Let  the  tide  sweep  on  its  way, 

In  the  shade,  or  in  the  sun, 
In  the  night  or  in  the  day. 

Death  is  rest  when  life  is  done  ; 
And  beyond  it  —  wherefore  care  ? 
Souls  there  are  which  go  not  there ! 


BEAUTY 


I  HAD  a  dream  one  glorious  summer  night 
In  the  rich  bosom  of  imperial  June. 
Languid  I  lay  upon  an  odorous  couch, 
Golden  with  amber,  festooned  wildly  o'er 
With  crimson  roses,  while  the  silent  stars 
Wept  dews  of  love  upon  their  clustered  leaves. 
Above  me  soared  the  azure  vault  of  heaven, 
Vast  and  majestic ;  cinctured  with  that  path 
Whereby,  mayhap,  the  sea-born  Venus  finds 
A  way  from  higher  spheres ;  that  path  which 

seems 
A  band  of  silver,  gemm'd  with  regal  stars, 

And  bound  upon  the  forehead  of  young  night. 

[77] 


78  BEAUTY. 

There  as  I  lay,  the  musical  south  wind 
Shook  all  the  roses  into  murmuring, 
And  poured  their  fragrance  o'er  me  in  a  shower 
Of  purple  mist.     Anon,  upon  mine  ears 
Came  a  low,  sweet  and  silvery  melody ; 
Which  with  delicious  languor  filled  the  air. 
And,  like  the  sunset-colored  water,  broke, 
And  floated  into  labyrinths  of  sound. 

Then  rose  a  shape,  a  dim  and  ghostly  shape, 
Whereto  was  neither  form  nor  feature  given  ; 
A  shadowy  splendor,  seeming  as  it  came 
A  pale  and  pearly  cloud  shot  through  and 

through 
With  faintest  rays  of  sunset :  yet  within 
A  spirit  dwelt ;  and,  floating  from  within, 
A  murmur  trembled  softly  into  words : 

*  I  am  the  ghost  of  a  most  lovely  dream 
Which  haunted,  in  old  days,  a  Poet's  mind! 


BEAUTY. 


79 


And  long  he  sought  for,  wept  and   prayed  for 

me ; 
And  searched  through  all  the  chambers  of  his 

soul, 
And  searched  the  secret  places  of  the  earth, 
The  lonely  forest  and  the  lonely  shore, 
And  listened  to  the  voices  of  the  sea, 
What  time  the  stars  were  out,  and  midnight 

cold 
Slept  on  the  dark  waves  whispering  at  his  feet ; 
And  sought  the  mystery  in  a  human  form. 
Amid  the  haunts  of  men,  and  found  it  not ; 
And  looked  in  woman's  sweet  and  tender  eyes, 
And  mirrored  there  his  ov/n,  and  saw  no  sign ! 
But  only  in  his  dreams  I  came  to  him. 
And  gave  him  fitful  glimpes  of  my  face. 
Whereof  he  after  sang  in  sweetest  words ; 
Then  died  and  came  to  me.     But,  evermore. 
Through  weary  days  and  lonely,  wakeful 

nights  — 


80  BEAUTY. 

A  life  of  star-lit  gloom  —  do  Poets  seek 
To  rend  away  the  veil  which  covers  me ! 
And  evermore  they  grasp  the  empty  air. 
For  only  in  their  dreams  I  come  to  them, 
And  give  them  fitful  glimpses  of  my  face, 
And  lull  them  with  the  music  words  of  hope, 
That  promise  sometime  to  their  ravished  eyes 
A  vision  of  the  absolute  Beautiful  I ' 

Then  the  voice  ceased,  and  only  on  mine  ears 
The  shaken  roses  murmured  and  the  wind  I 


THOUGHTS   OF   LIFE. 

[to   W.    0.    H.  ] 

I  THINK,  though  Hfe  is  not  too  long, 

Its  scenes  are  not  too  gay  ; 
That  thickly  as  our  hopes  may  throng, 

They  fleetly  fade  away  ; 
That  youth  a  radiant  season  is  — 

Supremely,  sweetly  blest  I 
And  when  the  heart 's  bereft  of  this, 

'Tis  darkness  aH  the  rest ! 

I  think  this  world  a  weary  scene ; 

That  Hfe  is  sorrow's  thraH  ; 
That  nothing  is  but  what  has  been, 

And  God  is  over  aH. 

6  [81] 


82  TIIOUGUTS    01'    LIFE. 

I  think  the  task  our  lives  supply 

Is,  learning  to  forgive  : 
And  when  a  man 's  prepared  to  die 

He  just  knows  how  to  live. 

And  therefore,  since  our  life  is  so 

Perplexed  with  pain  and  care  ; 
And  joys  as  fleetly  come  and  go 

As  unsubstantial  air ; 
I  think  the  hopes  for  this  world  made, 

Not  worth  a  single  sigh  ; 
And  though  they  flourish  fair,  or  fade. 

Nor  more  nor  less  care  I ! 

I  think,  dear  friend,  that  while  to  you. 

Its  many  strifes  among. 
My  heart  still  beats  as  fond  and  true 

As  when  that  heart  was  young, 
That  life  is  not  without  its  sun 

Nor  truth  without  its  charm  : 


THOUGHTS    OF    LIFE. 


83 


And  pray  the  friendship  thus  begun 
Our  God  may  keep  from  harm. 

The  rolling  years  may  bear  us  far 

From  one  another's  view  ; 
Our  lives  already  separate  are, 

Our  hopes  are  separate  too  : 
But  I  shall  not  forget  the  while 

Your  honest,  manly  eye. 
Your  generous  heart,  your  ready  smile  — 

Forget  not  till  I  die ! 

I  think  that  if  I  try  to  live      . 

As  truly  as  I  can,         ^ 
My  Heavenly  Parent  will  forgive 

A  weak  and  erring  man ; 
I  think  his  wisdom  is  supreme, 

His  dispensation  best ; 
And  wait  to  end  my  fevered  dream. 

And  go  with  Him  to  rest. 


MANHOOD, 


Look  thou  upon  the  outward  life, 
The  active,  restless,  seething  sea. 

The  one  tempestuous,  ceaseless  strife 
From  which  the  world  is  never  free ! 

Look  thou  into  the  heart  of  man 

When  toss'd  and  torn  by  wild  desire  — 

The  toil  to  do  what  manhood  can. 
The  aspiration  pointing  higher! 

Think  thou  upon  his  weary  days, 

His  anxious,  watchful  nights  of  gloom, 

And  see  the  WTeath  of  withering  bays 

That  crowns  at  last  an  early  tomb. 

[84] 


MANHOOD.  85 

Then,  if  a  single  generous  tear 
Is  wept  for  him,  in  grief  sublinae, 

And  thou  dost  deem  it  very  dear  — 
This  meed  of  glory  paid  by  time  ; 

Still,  still  think  not  that  thou  hast  known 
The  all  in  all  this  life  should  be  ! 

To  toil,  to  mourn,  to  die,  alone 
Make  not  a  man's  divinity  I 

Poor  are  the  honors  of  the  earth, 
And  poorer  yet  its  paltry  praise  ; 

And  not  for  this  does  honest  worth 
Toil  out  its  few,  but  glorious  days. 

Is  empty  praise  of  brazen  clown, 
Fit  offering  for  the  man  whose  soul 

Lived  all  ignoble  passions  down, 

And  went  to  God  unstained  and  whole  ? 


86  MANHOOD. 

No  —  Heaven  forbid  !  his  glance  discerns, 
Dim  through  the  future's  cloudy  pall, 

A  higher,  purer  light  that  burns 
Surmounting  and  encircling  all ! 

There  is  a  nobler  life  within, 
A  life  of  soul  to  which  if  true. 

He  tramples  out  the  sparks  of  sin. 
He  seeks  his  God  and  meets  him  too ! 

Then  hush  the  throbs  of  this  vile  clay, 
Fit  but  to  moulder  'neath  the  sod  ! 

Live  firmly,  nobly,  gloriously. 

True  to  yourself  and  true  to  God  ! 


FIRST  LOYE. 


I  REMEMBER  her  Well,  in  the  rose-light  of  morn, 
Ere    I  learned   that   a   promise   could   ever 
betray ; 
When  I  played  with  the  roses  and  laughed  at 
the  thorn, 
And  my  life,  heart,  and  hope  were  all  brilliant 
and  gay. 
I  remember  her  well  in  her  youth 's  early  bloom, 
And  rarely  such  beauty  to  mortals  is  given  — 
For  her  brow  never  wore  any  shadow  of  gloom, 
And  her  eyes  were  lit  up  with  the  sunshine 

of  heaven.  _ 

[87] 


fcJO  FIRST    LOVE. 

I  remember  the  smile  that  would  steal  o'er  her 
face, 
And  her  cheeks  that  would  flush  with  a  lovely 
surprise ; 
And  still  by  the  starlight  of  memory  I  trace 
The  sweet  little  mouth  and  the  gentle  gray 
eyes. 
I  remember  —  ah,  how  can  I  ever  forget 

When  I  fondly  and  timidly  stole  my  first  kiss. 
And  it  softens  and  sweetens  my  tender  regret 
To  recall  the  bright  hour  in  a  moment  like 
this. 

In  the  light  of  her  love  I  saw  clearer  and  clearer, 
And  my  heart  thrilled  with  joy  when  she  gave 
me  her  vow ; 
And  life  seemed  far  brighter,  and  better,  and 
dearer. 
Than   e'er   it   has   been  or   can  be  to  me 
now. 


FIKST    LOVE.  89 

For  the  currents  of  fate  part  us  wider  and  wider, 
And  around  us  the  winds  and  the  waves  are 
at  strife ; 

And  I  see  her  no  more,  am  no  longer  beside  her, 
But  drifting  alone  o'er  the  ocean  of  life ! 

Still  I  cherish  her  memory  to  solace  and  guide 
me ; 
And  oft,  when  I'm  weary  in  heart  and  in  brain, 
Her  dear  little  form  seems  to  nestle  beside  me. 
And  I  hear  the  sweet  voice  of  the  old  time 
again. 
Oh  'tis  well  here  on  earth  that  the  pure,  early 
feeling 
From  the  depths  of  the  soul  cannot  wholly 
depart ; 
And  there's  joy  in  our  tears  as  they  flow  when 
revealing 
That  the  first  faith  and  hope  are  not  dead 
in  the  heart ! 


THE   MURMUR   OF   THE    RAIN, 


J  AM  sitting  by  my  window 

While  the  night  is  coming  down, 
And  I  watch  the  darkness  settle 

Upon  the  silent  town  ; 
The  sky  is  dull  and  dreary, 

And  the  softly-falling  rain  — 
It  tinkles  like  these  Httle  thoughts 

That  drip  from  out  my  brain. 

Now  denser  grow  the  shadows 

And  the  night  is  stiU  around, 

[90] 


THE    MURMUK    OF    THE    RAIN.  91 

Save  that  the  gentle  rain-drops 

Patter  slowly  on  the  ground ; 
And  now  throughout  the  darkness 

A  distant  echo  steals, 
From  the  trampling  of  the  horses'  hoofs 

And  rumbling  of  the  wheels. 

Now  it  dies  away  in  silence 

But  anon  returns  again  ; 
And  all  the  time  I  hear  the  chime 

Of  softly-falling  rain. 
While  the  shivering  wind  it  murmurs 

With  demoniac  delight : 
Oh  I'm  sure  it  moans  with  the  dying  groans 

Of  the  hearts  that  break  to-night! 

There  is  something  very  mournful 
In  this  solemn,  ceaseless  sound ! 

But  it  tells  of  peace  that  will  never  cease, 
In  the  caverns  under  ground. 


92  THE    MURMUR    OF    THE    RAIN. 

Ah,  the  sweet  young  rose  of  hope  is  dead  — 

'Twill  never  bloom  again  ! 
And  the  tears  I  shed  for  the  beautiful  dead, 

They  fall  like  the  desolate  rain. 


THE  PRAYER  OF  A  HEART, 


Father,  to  thy  supernal  view 

How  smaU  a  single  life  must  be ! 
Yet  I  have  dared  to  think  it  true 

My  soul  has  something  born  of  thee. 
I  would  not  deem  this  Hfe  in  vain, 

Nor  useless  any  single  hour ; 
But  in  my  pleasure  and  my  pain 

See  tokens  of  thy  glorious  power. 

Amid  the  solemn  woods  I  muse, 
Lit  by  the  starlight  pure  and  pale : 

[93] 


94  THE    PRAYER    OF    A    HEART. 

The  pleasant  dropping  of  the  dews 

And  the  sweet  south  wind's  whispering  wail, 

Stirring  the  leaves,  make  music  there. 
Soft  as  a  love-lorn  maiden's  sigh ; 

And  night's  rich  radiance  everywhere, 
Tells  me,  O  God,  that  thou  art  nigh  ! 

I  wander  on  the  vacant  shore 

When  twilight  deepens  far  at  sea. 
While  madly  now  the  wild  waves  roar 

And  toss  the  white  foam  heavily : 
The  sea-breeze  gently  lifts  my  hair 

And  kindly  cools  my  fevered  brow. 
The  while  I  breathe  an  humble  prayer, 

O  Father,  as  I  breathe  it  now. 

Protect  me,  for  my  will  is  weak ! 

Protect  me  in  this  world  of  sin  ! 
Leave  not  my  lonely  heart  to  break. 

Through  care  without  and  grief  within  ! 


THE    PRYAER    OF    A    HEART.  95 

Temptations  strong  beset  my  way, 
And  passion  points  my  wild  career : 

Be  with  me  in  my  prosperous  day, 
And  in  the  midnight  of  my  fear ! 


A   NIGHT   IN   JUNE. 

[by  the  seaside.] 

The  moonbeams  on  the  water  sleep 

In  radiant  light, 
And  radiant  thoughts  and  visions  keep 

My  soul  to-night. 

Shades  of  sweet  hours  that  now  are  gone 

Come  all  unsought ; 
And  silver  waves  of  joy  dance  on 

The  stream  of  thought. 

A  dreamy  influence  seems  to  rise 

From  other  years ; 
A  quiet  bliss  which  dims  the  eyes 

With  happy  tears. 

[00] 


A   NIGHT    IN    JUNE.  97 

Life  wears  that  glow  of  rosy  grace 

Which  once  it  wore  ; 
And  smiles  are  lit  on  many  a  face 

That  smiles  no  more. 

The  genial  friends  I  used  to  greet, 

All,  all  are  here  : 
All  forms  are  fair,  all  voices  sweet, 

All  memories  dear ! 

All  happy  thoughts,  all  happy  dreams 

That  have  been  mine, 
Rise  with  a  tender  light  that  seems 

Of  auld  lang  syne. 

But  something  in  the  heart  is  wrong 

That  once  had  sway  ; 
Some  echo  of  the  ancient  song 

Has  died  away. 
7 


A    NTGHT    IN    JUNE. 

These  winds  that  on  their  cloudy  cars 

Sweep  through  the  sky; 
These  wandering,  watching,  deathless  stars 

My  prayer  deny. 

These  low,  sweet  murmurs  from  the  land 

And  from  the  sea  ; 
These  waves  that  kiss  the  silver  sand 

Speak  not  to  me. 

And  not  to  me  that  voice  shall  speak 

Forevermore ; 
Though  the  same  waves  in  beauty  break 

On  the  same  shore. 

Alas !  to  peaceful  hearts  alone. 

Which  love  her  well. 
Does  Nature  make  those  secrets  known 

She  loves  to  tell. 


A    NIGHT    IN    JUNE.  99 

To  them  her  sweetest  songs  are  sung 

Of  Love  and  Peace : 
But  when  the  heart 's  no  longer  young, 

Those  voices  cease. 


EMORIES 


Now  'tis  night ;  the  sun  descended, 
Darkness  drear  is  all  around ; 

Flaps  the  wing  of  hidden  raven, 
Chirps  the  cricket  on  the  ground ! 

How  the  silent  hours  are  burdened  — 
With  what  grief  and  with  what  pain ! 

While  the  solemn  glance  of  memory 
Wanders  o'er  the  past  again. 

Shadowy  visions  flit  before  me, 

Phantoms  of  the  long  ago  ; 
And  I  sit  and  watch  them  sadly, 

While  my  tears  begin  to  flow. 

[100] 


5  i 


MEMORIES. 

And  their  voices  thrill  the  darkness 
With  a  soft,  reproachful  tone  ; 

And  they  leave  me  in  my  sadness, 
Feeling  all  the  more  alone : 

Till  there  comes  a  sweeter  memory, 
Chasing  all  my  gloom  away. 

Of  a  maiden  dearly  cherished. 
And  a  ne'er  forgotten  day : 

One  calm  day  of  mist  and  sunshine 
When  we  sat  beside  the  sea. 

And  the  great  waves  rolling  inward 
Broke  and  murmured  mournfully. 

Sad  thou  wert —  I  knew  thy  sorrow  ! 

Yet,  oh  brave  and  gentle  one. 
Yet  thy  pure  lips  softly  whispered, 

"  Let  our  Father's  will  be  done." 


101 


102  MEMORIES. 

And  although  this  world  be  dreary, 
While  such  hearts  as  thine  remain 

Let  me  nevermore  grow  weary 
In  the  restless  strife  and  pain. 

But  with  meek  and  humble  spirit, 
Till  the  sands  of  life  are  run, 

Let  me  feel  that  sweet  submission, 
Saying,  "  May  Thy  will  be  done  I  " 


TiniOUGH   THE   DARKNESS. 


If  the  road  grow  dark  before  you  reach 

The  home  where  your  true  love  waits  for  you 

Will  you  linger  within  the  light,  and  preach 

Of  the  danger  you  may  perchance  go 

through  ? 

Or  will  you  go  on,  as  you  ought  to  do  ? 

You  will  go.     You  will  care  not  for  darkness 

and  storm ; 

For  her  dear  love  will  shield  you  and  keep  you 

warm. 

[103] 


104  THROUGH    THE    DARKNESS. 

What  sort  of  a  life,  I  would  like  to  know, 
Will  any  man  lead  wbo  does  not  love  ?  — 

The  frozen  earth  is  cold  below. 

And  the  freezing  stars  are  bright  above : 

But  let  him  lie  under  the  frozen  mould, 

For  his  heart  and  the  stars  and  the  earth  are 
cold. 

The  night  comes  down  with  an  angry  frown, 
And  the  fierce  wind  shrills  on  the  lonely 
moor  : 
Look  back  —  to  the  lights  in  the  distant  town! 
Look  on  —  to  the  dreary  waste  before  ! 
Who  waits  for  you  when  the  journey's 
o'er  ? 
She  wull  give  you  a  sweet,  sweet  kiss,  you 

know  — 
Let  the  darkness  come  and  the  fierce  wind 
blow ! 


THROUGH    THE    DARKNESS.  105 

In  the  path  of  duty  grows  many  a  thorn, 
And  bleak  is  the  scorn  of  a  selfish  world ; 

But  there  never  was  night  without  its  morn, 
And  after  the  tempest  the  clouds  are  furled. 

For  over  all  spreadeth  the  broad  blue  sky, 

And  we  trust  in  our  God  who  is  always  nigh. 


MY   PET   THAT   WAS. 


A    REJIIXISCENCE. 


Slow  stealing  through  the  twilight  haze 

A  cloud  of  slumber  droppeth  o'er  me  ; 
I  dream  to-night  of  other  days, 

As  many  a  fool  has  done  before  me. 
And  from  the  crowd  of  phantoms  there, 

One  sweet,  pale  face  looks  out  above  me 
Alas  the  flower  I  used  to  wear ! 

Alas  the  heart  that  used  to  love  me ! 

Your  eyes  were  gray  when  last  we  met  — 
I  wonder  if  they're  any  grayer ! 

I  used  to  pray  to  them,  my  pet. 
But  now  I'm  nothing  of  a  prayer. 

[lOG] 


MY    PET    THAT    WAS.  107 

Your  voice  I  think  was  very  sweet  — 

'Twould  sound  to-night  a  great  deal  sweeter ! 

And  ah,  the  hours  were  very  fleet, 
Told  gently  off  by  Love's  repeater. 

Your  heart  was  hardly  true,  my  pet  — 

I  cannot  say  that  mine  was  truer ; 
For  I,  w^ho  used  to  woo,  forget 

Sometimes  that  e'er  I've  been  a  wooer. 
But  you  forgot  your  vow,  my  pet. 

Even  in  the.  moment  when  you  gave  it  I 
So  it  were  idle  to  regret 

The  sorry  chance  that  did  not  save  it. 

I  think  I  never  saw  you  sad  — 

They  tell  me  that  you  still  are  merry ; 

With  eyes  that  sparkle,  gay  and  glad. 
And  lips  that  have  the  tint  of  cherry : 

That  all  your  pretty,  winning  ways. 
So  arch  and  wayward,  wild  and  wilful, 


108  MY    PET    THAT    WAS. 

Remayi  as  in  the  golden  days  — 

Except  that  you  are  grown  more  skilful. 

Fade  gentle  vision  from  my  sight ! 

I  do  not  trust  —  I  do  not  doubt  you  : 
But  I  am  happier  far  to-night, 

My  darling  little  pet,  without  you  ! 
I  warrant  me  you  have  no  lack 

Of  lovers  now  to  teaze  and  worry ; 
So  could  I  call  the  old  days  back, 

I  would'nt  do  it  in  a  hurry. 


LIGHT   AND   SHADOW. 


You  who  judge  by  what  you  see 

Often  fail  to  judge  aright ! 
Stars  are  shining  solemnly 

In  the  day  as  in  the  night: 
All  the  day  they  lie  concealed 

By  the  glory  of  the  sun  ; 
But  at  eve  they  shine  revealed 

In  the  azure,  one  by  one. 

So  the  daylight  of  a  smile 
May  but  veil  the  human  face, 

Hiding  for  a  little  while 

Doubt  and  care  and  sorrow's  trace 

[109J 


110  LIGHT    AND    SHADOW. 

So  when  shadow  clouds  of  woe 

O'er  a  happy  face  arise, 
Still  beneath  the  shadows  glow 

Stars  of  joy  in  gentle  eyes. 

Life  is  arched  with  changing  skies : 

Rarely  are  they  what  they  seem : 
Children  we  of  smiles  and  sighs  — 

Much  we  know,  but  more  we  dream. 
Look  beneath  the  outward  show, 

To  the  shadow  or  the  light ! 
And,  from  what  you  surely  know. 

Learn  to  see  and  judge  aright. 


GOOD-BYE 


Now,  little  one,  'tis  time  to  part ! 

With  half  a  smile  and  half  a  sigh 
Come  let  me  fold  you  to  my  heart, 

And  softly  whisper.  Love,  Good-bye  ! 
And  let  me  hear  the  gentle  tone 

Of  that  same  sad,  but  sweet  reply, 
Which  I  shall  dream  on,  when  alone. 

So  mournfally,  Good-bye!  Good-bye! 

Ah  well,  there's  something  in  the  word 
That  speaks  a  spirit  kind  and  true  ; 

And  sweeter  sound  I  never  heard 

Than  when  I  heard  it  first  from  you ! 


112 


GOOD-BYE. 


For  that  sad  tone  came  winged  with  power 
To  tell  me  what  I  longed  to  know : 

I  had  your  secret  from  that  hour ; 
I  knew  you  loved  me  long  ago  I 

But  now  it  dims  my  eyes  with  tears 

And  thrills  my  heart  with  nameless  pain, 
For  all  the  moments  will  seem  years 

Till  you  and  I  shall  meet  again : 
But  whisper  it  once  more,  my  love, 

With  half  a  smile  and  half  a  sigfh : 
And  may  our  Father,  from  above, 

Look  down  and  bless  you,  dear  —  Good- 
bye ! 


TO   ONE  WHO   IS   ABSENT. 


I  FELT  that  when  we  parted,  my  sweet  friend, 
It  was  forever  :  and  my  thought  is  still 
That  we  shall  meet  no  more  this  side  the 

gi-ave ; 
That  I  shall  never  look  upon  your  face, 
Nor  hold  again  your  gentle  hand  in  mine. 
Others  shall  see  your  quiet,  sunny  smile, 
And  hear  the  silver  ripple  of  your  voice. 
Telling  pure  thoughts  that  speak  a  soul  as  pure  ; 
And  many  a  chilled  and  dusty  heart  shall  be 
Warmed  back  again  to  life,  and  youth,  and  joy. 
By  your  sweet  presence  ;  and  when  you  have 

passed 

8  [llii] 


114  TO    ONE    WHO    IS    ABSENT. 

Into  the  bloom  of  perfect  womanhood, 
There's  one,  perchance,  shall  win  you  for  his 

own, 
And  know  through  life  the  bliss  of  being  loved 
By  one  whose  love  will  make  him  more  a  man, 
And  lift  him  nearer  to  the  home  of  God. 
But  we  shall  meet  no  more ;  and  it  is  well 
This  should  be  so  !     Unquiet  is  my  heart 
With  many  dark  and  bitter  memories. 
And  wild  ambition  :  therefore  is  it  fit 
That  I  should  dwell  alone  ;  and,  from  afar, 
Remember  you  with  grateful  reverence  — 
A  child  of  heaven,  all  innocence  and  truth. 
And  consecrate  by  God's  especial  love ! 


A  BRIDAL   SONG. 


Put  on  the  laughing  brows  of  youth 

A  coronal  of  roses, 
White  as  the  pure  and  steadfast  truth 

On  which  the  heart  reposes. 

Give  to  the  summer  noon  its  heat! 

Give  summer  all  its  glory ! 
Those  happy  hours  are  always  fleet 

When  young  Love  tells  his  story. 

But  autumn  shall  not  need  the  glow 

Of  early  springing  roses ; 
For  the  life  which  love  hath  guarded  so, 

Grows  brighter  as  it  closes. 

[115] 


116 


A    BRIDAL    SONG. 


The  storm-clouds  soil  December's  skies, 
But  dim  their  sunshine  only  ; 

For  Faith  shall  gently  close  the  eyes 
On  all  that's  dark  or  lonely. 

Happy  as  husband  and  as  wife, 
With  tender  hearts  to  love  you,  — 

Yours  is  the  crowning  bliss  of  life. 
With  God  and  heaven  above  you. 


SABBATH  IN  AUTUMN 


How  gently  tolls  the  village  bell, 
This  quiet  Sabbath  afternoon  ; 

With  now  a  pause,  and  now  a  swell 
Of  solemn  music,  all  in  tune  ! 

How  calmly,  through  the  deep  blue  sky. 
The  little  fleecy  clouds  are  borne ! 

How  soft  the  winds  which  murmur  by. 
While  all  the  leafless  branches  mourn ! 

It  is  the  still  and  lifeless  peace 

That  tells  the  course  of  false  decay ; 

That  changeful  Nature's  pulses  cease 
And  strength  and  beauty  fade  away. 

[117] 


118  SABBATH    IN    AUTUMN. 

'Tis  thus  our  little  lives  decline, 

So  pass  our  few  and  fleeting  years; 

While  stars  of  hope  delusive  shine 
Dim  through  the  misty  vale  of  tears. 

But  when  the  weary  days  are  gone, 
And  sorrow's  mournful  dream  is  o'er. 

Our  eyes  shall  see  a  holier  dawn 
And  nobler  glory  than  before. 


A   VOICE   OF   THE  DEAD. 


The  autumn  wind  is  wild  in  all  the  leaves, 
And  the  long  grass  is  rustling  on  my  grave ; 

Ah,  would  you  have  me  think  your  heart  still 
grieves 
For  one  you  would  not  save  ? 

For  I  am  dead  !     Know  you  not  I  am  dead  ? 

Why  do' you  haunt  me  in  my  grave  to-night  ? 
Standing  above  and  listening  overhead, 

Where  I  am  buried  deep,  and  out  of  sight! 

[119] 


120  A    VOICE    OF    THE    DEAD. 

Have  you  not  wine  and  music  in  your  home, 
And  the  fair  form  and  eyes  so  pure  and  proud 

With  love   of  you  ?  —  and   wherefore    do   you 
come 
To  vex  me,  lying  silent  in  my  shroud  ? 

Seek  your  new  love !    she   calls   you,  and  the 
tears 
Are  warm  on  her  pale  face,  and  her  young 
breast 
Is  full  of  doubt  and  sorrow,  and  she  hears 

Low  whispered  words  that  warn  her  from  her 
rest. 

In  from  the  night !  the  storm  begins  to  stir ! 

I  will  be  near,  and  ghostly  eyes  shall  see 
How  you  will  kiss  her  lips  and  say  to  her, 

*'  Thine  always.  Love,"  —  as  once  you  said 
to  me! 


THE   LONELY   FLOWER. 


On  the  bank  of  a  woodland  stream  it  grew, 
Fed  with  light  and  with  silver  dew ; 
Yet  was  its  life,  or  more  or  less, 
Sustained  by  its  own  soft  loveliness. 

And  the  stream  flowed  on  through  a  lonely  dell 
Where  the  softened  sunlight  loved  to  dwell ; 
"Wrapped  in  a  robe  of  forest  trees. 
And  lulled  by  the  sigh  of  the  summer  breeze. 

And  so  it  grew  from  day  to  day, 

A  beauty  and  a  mystery ; 

Till,  at  the  last,  in  its  sorrowful  pride. 

It  sickened  and  faded  and  drooped  and  died. 

[121] 


122  THE    LONELY    FLOWER. 

But  the  sunlight  came  and  smiled  in  the  wood, 
And  still  by  the  stream  the  dark  trees  stood  ; 
And  the  stream  itself  flowed  peacefully  on, 
Though  the  beautiful  flower  of  love  was  gone. 


TO   ONE  IN  HEAVEN 


If  angels  wait  the  appointed  end 
Which  to  this  feverish  life  must  be, 

Angels  shall  smile  on  thee,  my  friend. 
And  heavenly  hands  shall  welcome  thee. 

Nor  shall  thy  memory  pass  away 

From  hearts  that  long  have  loved  thee  here 
But  we'll  remember,  day  by  day, 

That  thou  wert  kind  as  thou  wert  dear. 

And  when,  with  worldly  care  forlorn, 

We  seek  thy  grave  in  silent  pain, 

Forgive  us  if  we  idly  mourn 

And  wish  thee  back  from  heaven  again. 

[123] 


124  TO    ONE    IN    HEAVEN. 

Be  with  us  in  our  darkness!     Come, 
And  stretch  to  us  thy  gentle  hand ; 

And  guide  us  through  the  gathering  gloom. 
To  join  thee  in  the  eternal  land ! 


REST 


Sorrow  is  pitiless, 

Rest  from  thy  sorrow  I 
Sleep  while  thou  may'st, 

There  is  pain  for  the  morrow. 

Close,  close  thine  eyes 

On  the  dark  world  around  thee ! 
Shake  from  thy  spirit 

The  chains  that  have  bound  thee! 

Rest  while  thou  may'st, 

There  are  angels  beside  thee : 

Rest  in  our  love. 

We  will  guard  thee  and  guide  thee. 

[125] 


126  KEST ! 

Calm  be  thy  sleep 

As  the  stars  are  above  thee ! 
Pure  be  thy  dreams 

As  the  souls  are  that  love  thee! 


SNOW-DROPS, 


Filled  is  the  air  with  driving  snow, 

And  the  wind  in  the  chimney  moaneth  free, 

And  the  frozen  ground  is  white  below, 

And  the  snow-drops  gem  each  haggard  tree. 

I  stand  at  the  window  and  watch  the  snow, 
Coming  down  from  the  clouds,  on  its  desolate 
way. 
In  a  ceaseless,  wild  and  tumultuous  flow, 
Borne  along  on  the  wind  like  the  ocean's 
spray. 

And  I  think  that  we,  like  the  flakes  of  snow. 
Are  strangely  wafted  by  fortune's  breath  ; 

Restlessly  eddying  to  and  fro. 

Till  we  sink  at  last  in  the  waves  of  death. 

[127] 


ONE   OF   THREE 


Do  you  remember  her  smile,  my  friend  ? 

Yes,  you  remember  it :  so  do  I. 
Think  you  that  ever  our  God  doth  send 

An  angel  down  from  the  upper  sky  ? 

Where  are  the  pleasures  that  used  to  be  ? 

Where  are  our  moments  of  happiness  gone  ? 
The  joys  of  our  youth  were  swift  to  flee. 

But  the  light  of  that  smile  still  shineth  on. 

Words  we  forget,  but  looks  remain,  — 

Better  and  truer  things  are  they  ! 
And  so  I  think  it  is  not  in  vain 

That  the  light  of  her  beautiful  smile  will 
stay  I 

[128] 


ALONE. 


With  a  faint,  dim  flickering  on  the  wall, 

The  mellow  sunlight  dies  away. 
And  a  sort  of  drowsy,  dreamy  thrall 

Comes  down  on  the  soul  at  the  shut  of  day. 

The  rising  moon,  with  a  golden  glare, 

Laves  all  the  emerald  ground  ; 
But  a  gloom  is  in  the  summer  air. 

And  a  heavy  sadness  all  around. 

For  one  who  should  be  here  to-night 
Comes  not,  and  will  not  come  again  : 

And  the  maiden  weeps  in  the  still  moonlight, 
And  her  heart  is  weary  and  full  of  pain. 

9  [120] 


THE   LAST   SCENE. 


Here  she  lieth,  white  and  chill : 
Put  your  hand  upon  her  brow  I 

For  her  heart  is  very  still, 

And  she  does  not  know  you  now. 

Ah,  the  grave 's  a  quiet  bed  ! 

She  shall  sleep  a  pleasant  sleep. 
And  the  tears  that  you  may  shed 

Will  not  wake  her  —  therefore  weep  I 

Weep  —  for  you  have  wrought  her  woe  : 
Mourn  —  she  mourned  and  died  for  you 

Ah,  too  late  we  come  to  know 
What  is  false  and  what  is  true. 

[130] 


'MY   PAITH 


I  HOLD  it  well  our  hearts  should  know 
The  full  extremes  of  joy  and  woe  ; 
To  feel  this  mortal  life  not  made 
In  all  of  sunshine  nor  of  shade. 

I  hold  it  well  that  we  should  give 
Our  joys  the  right  they  claim,  to  live  ; 
Nor  sink  in  childish  weakness  down 
At  sorrow's  chill  or  fortune's  frown. 

I  hold  it  true,  whate'er  we  do, 
In  mask  of  mirth  or  suffering's  thrall, 
That,  lapsed  in  years  our  smiles  and  tears, 
We  have  but  shadows  for  them  all ! 

[131] 


FORTITUDE. 


The  brightest  hopes  the  heart  can  cherish 
Are  always  first  to  fade  away ; 

The  loveliest  things  are  first  to  perish, 
And  life  itself  is  but  decay. 

Still,  suffering  tries  the  human  soul. 
While  patient  firmness  hopes  release, 

And  urges  to  a  heavenly  goal. 
Where  nothing  is  save  endless  peace. 

Then  faint  not  on  the  thorny  road 

Which  many  a  weary  foot  hath  trod  : 

It  leads  thee  to  a  blest  abode. 
It  leads  thee  to  thy  father,  God. 

[132] 


HOPE   IN   SORROW. 


Cold  is  the  night  and  the  weary  wind  is  sighing, 
Solemnly  and  sadly  it  murmurs  and  it  grieves  ; 

Low  in  the  west  the  red  moon  is  dying, 

And  dead  upon  the   earth  lie  the  sere  and 
yellow  leaves. 

But  when  the  spring-time,  goldenly  breaking, 
Blushes  like  the  morning,  ere  it  deepens  into 
day, 

Then  shall  the  glad  earth,  its  sadness  forsaking, 
Weep  in  its  joy  o'er  the  rosy  feast  of  May. 


[133j 


SONG. 

[for  a  silver  wedding.] 

Be  crowned  with  flowers  the  rosy  hours,  — 

The  breezes  glad  and  gay 
With  the  music  that  wells  from  the  silver  bells 

That  beat  in  our  hearts  to-day ! 

From  the  merry  rills,  from  the  breezy  hills, 
From  the  woods  and  the  meadow  lea, 

Let  the  echoes  rise  to  the  brilliant  skies 
And  faint  o'er  the  sapphire  sea ! 

For  joy  attains  its  sweetest  strains 

And  life  its  natural  bliss, 
When  souls  allied  are  sanctified 

In  union  such  as  this  : 

[134] 


SONG.  135 

When  day  and  night  make  one  delight 

To  hearts  that  shall  not  sever : 
For  true  love  binds  accordant  minds 

Forever  and  forever  I 


WHAT   THE   STARS    WHISPER, 


In  the  blue  heaven,  so  coldly  bright, 
The  harvest  moon  shines  fair  to-night ; 
And  calmly,  sweetly,  from  afar 
FaUs  the  pure  light  of  each  pale  star : 
Silent,  serene,  they  shine  and  move 
By  God's  eternal  power  and  love. 

So  should  it  be  with  us,  to  whom 
Are  hours  of  joy  and  hours  of  gloom  : 
Patient  our  hearts  should  stiH  beat  on 
TiU  this  world's  changing  dream  is  gone 
Pure  and  serene  our  souls  should  be 
Till  mercy's  summons  sets  them  free. 

[13G] 


AT   MIDNIGHT, 


Am  I  alone  ?  I  see  no  form, 

I  hear  no  voice  nor  footstep  nigh ; 
Only  the  howling  of  the  storm 

And  angry  winds  that  shake  the  sky : 
But,  through  this  dim  and  ghostly  gloom, 

"What  unseen  eyes  may  gaze  in  mine! 
"What  viewless  phantoms  fill  the  room, 

And  speak  no  word  and  make  no  sign. 

Ah  well,  these  striving  thoughts  are  vain  : 
We  cannot  pierce  the  mystery  through, 

But  patiently  must  wear  the  chain, 
And  suffer,  and  be  pure  and  true. 

[137] 


138  AT    MIDNIGHT. 

No  power  in  mortal  gift  can  reach 
The  secrets  of  the  grave,  or  show 

What  will  be  plain  when  death  shall  teach 
All  that  we  long,  yet  dread  to  know. 


AT  DAWN 


See,  the  crimson  moon  above 

The  long,  low  clouds  that  throng  the  west, 
Thrilleth  them  through,  as  a  smile  of  love 

Thrilleth  the  dark,  despairing  breast. 

But,  as  fades  that  smile  from  a  beautiful  face, 
So  fades  the  crimson  moon  away ; 

While  the  ashen  twilight  wanes  apace, 
And  ushers  in  the  conquering  day. 


[139] 


TO   H.  W.   L. 


If  ever  envy  in  my  heart  could  dwell, 

(And,  God  be  thanked,  I  do  not  think  it  can) 
Thy  glorious  calm  I  might  desire  well, 

Which,  trusting  Heaven,  shrinks  not  for  any 
man. 
For,  by  such  intellectual  self-control, 

Such  cheerful  patience  to  endure  and  act. 
Comes  that  vast  power  and  majesty  of  soul 

Which  greatest  men  on  earth  have  never 
lacked. 
And  in  thy  dignity  of  thought  and  mien, 

And  thy  serenity  and  gentleness. 

Still  have  I  seen,  and  gloried  to  have  seen, 

How  great  soe'er  they  were,  thou  art  no  less ! 

[IIOJ 


TO    H.    W.    L.  141 

So  when  my  heart  is  bound  in  sorrow's  thrall, 
And  restless  beats,  and    barns  with  inward 
pain, 
Let  but  the  light  of  thy  example  fall 

Upon  my  life,  and  I  am  strong  again ! 


THE   TRUE   WAY. 

[for  a  festive    occasion.] 

Be  these  true  words  on  every  lip, 

Through  all  this  maze  of  joy  and  pain,  — 
*  Let  not  the  fair  occasion  slip 

"Which  never,  never  comes  again  ! ' 
We  bear  not  long  this  being's  thrall. 

Nor  will  the  flight  of  time  delay ; 
And  whosoe'er  would  take  at  all. 

Must  take  his  chances  while  he  may. 

For  all  things  fade  :  The  breath  of  spring 
Shakes  the  frail  blossoms  to  the  earth ; 

And  summer  waves  her  sultry  wing, 

And  smites  the  flowers  with  fatal  dearth  ; 

[142] 


THE    TRUE    WAY.  143 

The  autumn  fruits  mature  and  fall, 
The  storm-winds  gather  in  the  sky, 

Till  winter  spreads  a  leaden  pall 
And  knells  the  solemn  hour  to  die. 

And  we,  whose  faces  here  to-night 

Are  gay  with  smiles,  and  wdt,  and  wine. 
Shall,  by  and  by,  with  altered  sight, 

Count  o'er  the  joys  of  auld  lang  syne. 
Our  hearts,  where  hope  is  singing  now, 

To  other  music  then  shall  beat ; 
When  anxious  thought  clouds  every  brow, 

And  only  memory's  dreams  are  sweet. 

So  let  us,  in  life's  generous  spring, 

In  all  its  merry,  genial  hours, 
Be  happy  as  the  birds  that  sing. 

And  brilliant  as  the  early  flowers ; 
That  sometimes  in  the  sterner  age. 

When  care  has  claimed  us  for  its  own, 


114  THE    TRUE    WAY. 

Wc  may  read  o'er  the  earlier  page, 
And  catch  again  the  earlier  tone ; 

And  say  —  albeit  with  quivering  lip  — 

Through  all  this  maze  of  joy  and  pain, 
I  let  no  fair  occasion  slip, 

I  knew  it  would  not  come  again! 
But  happy  with  an  honest  heart. 

Gave  every  hour  its  proper  due  ; 
And  strove  to  play  a  noble  part. 

To  Truth  and  Love  and  Friendship  true ! 


M^^fi 


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